Till Death
by wreckofherheart
Summary: It takes time, but they happen. Eventually. [Piper/Alex]
1. I

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'Till Death_  
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She sort of proposes on a whim.

Three months into their relationship, she proposes, and he stutters, shrugs, beams and accepts. In the moment, she's relieved. They embrace. His body is warm, his arms tight, but still gentle around her waist, and it's exactly as it should be. But, after six minutes and thirteen seconds, she realises he _lacks_ something. And she feels _awful_ to think that way; this man, this person, _lacks_ something. Who is she to say if somebody lacks a quality? That he is not perfect enough?

When they ask about him, she says he's great. He doesn't care about the prison sentence, he doesn't care if she has a psychopathic drug-dealing ex. He doesn't care because, for some bizarre reason, he loves her. And his love is nice. It's soft, and it's easy. It's the type of love any fool wants. The sort of love where she'll come home after work, and he'll have set the table and cooked dinner because he wanted to surprise her. The sort of love where she'll roll over in bed, and feel him beside her because he has nowhere else to be. Because he has no reason to flee in the middle of the night.

Her mother doesn't approve immediately until it is convenient for her to approve. Her father cannot be less interested. He doesn't see his baby girl anymore; just a girl. Just some woman he once raised. As if the sentence has mutilated everything she is. He doesn't want her ugliness.

So, she and the man of her dreams organise the wedding. His smile is cute. A dimple creases in his right cheek, and she kisses him there. He's feeling mischievous, and quickly turns his head in time so their lips touch. She sighs through her nose. Places a hand at his jawline, to hold his face, to keep him still, to kiss him a little while longer just to make sure he's real. To wait for her breath to escape her, the force of their kiss to wind her for hours, leave her frantic and flustered, limp yet strong on her feet. She wants to want more. To need his body on hers. To feel his naked skin on her fingertips.

To hear him whisper –– _Pipes_ into her ear, his tongue at her neck, in her mouth, effortlessly stripping the loose t-shirt from her trembling form as she whimpers _yes, yes, yes_.

One of them feels all of this. They retreat. He smiles warmly, exhales, stunned. He'll never get over her, who he has found. Ironically, she loves him just a little more. She loves him for loving her unconditionally, oblivious to the sinful, unforgivable stories locked in her mind. She can play house. She can be the good wife. He can be the good husband. But she will always drown in her lies.

Those brown eyes always shock her, take her by surprise, sometimes make her gasp.

He thinks her manner is endearing.

But she merely forgets. She sees brown, expects green.

Her heart skips. She's suddenly afraid she'll vomit the butterflies fluttering in her tummy. She has to sit down. He watches her, a little concerned, but more adoringly. 'Baby,' he whispers, leaning over, taking her cold hand. 'It'll be okay.' The wedding. It'll be okay. He bumps his nose against hers. She tries to smile. She doesn't know if she does, her entire face is numb. 'It's all gonna be okay.'

She's been told that before.

Then his smile breaks. He realises. He realises the problem.

Sighs.

Smiles again.

Piper has never been a good liar. Not really.

Here they sit, wedding magazines strewn across the table, plans written in notepads, invitations waiting to be sealed in envelopes. Here they sit, together. But not together.

Slowly, his hand falls from hers. He opens his mouth to speak. Stops. Shakes his head. Not in disbelief.

'I'm not her.' His voice is still. It doesn't shudder.

He knows, and he's always known, and he's hoped, one day, it'll pass. This love will pass; that she will see sense. Truth is, Piper has been blind ever since she laid eyes on her. There is nothing else to see except Alex.

Piper can't breathe. Finally, she can't breathe. Tears irritate her eyes. 'Oh.' But she doesn't weep. '... No.' Piper wipes her face with the back of sleeve. Laughs a little. 'No, you're not.'

A beat.

'I'm sorry.'

She is. And so is he.

'I know.'

Then Piper runs a hand through his hair, in a very un-Piper-like manner. Catches his eye. He smiles, a sad, reluctant smile, but understanding all the same.

'Go find her.'

Her lungs hurt when she remembers how to breathe.

And she's gone, her cardigan catching the pile of invitations. He watches each card slip to the ground. When he looks up, she has already disappeared.

To find her.

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**author's note**: This story will be short and sweet. It is set post-Litchfield. Reviews are appreciated.


	2. II

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'Till Death  
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What is it about her that she cannot resist? How is it that every second apart from her, she doesn't feel _whole_? That she feels alienated from life, that the world is hollow and empty? That it's a struggle to breathe at night, because she's trying so fucking hard not to cry? Her heart is tired. She's getting old and she needs Alex to love her.

It's been snowing. Slush dampens her boots, sprays across her jeans when she hails a taxi. Her fingers are numb as she opens the door, drops inside, and stutters, 'T––take me to Queens.'

The taxi driver pulls a face. Looks at her as if she's mad.

She is.

'All that way?'

'Yep.' Piper pulls out her purse, hands over more than one-hundred dollars. 'I'll give you more if you want. Just take me there.'

He can't object. He needs money, and Piper has given him plenty. Sighing, he snatches the dollars and faces forward again. Piper straps herself in. Catches her breath. She feels sick. In fact, she nearly _is_ sick. But she's certain. She's certain of Alex. Something breaks way inside her: her pride, her heart, her gut, she doesn't know, but it whispers _finally_.

Finally.

The taxi drives off. And as each second passes, she's farther away from her fiancé, and he's probably still sitting at the table, surrounded by wedding plans and pictures. And as each second passes, she's closer to Alex, and Piper doesn't know what she's doing. If she's even awake yet. If she may not actually remember who Piper is.

It's so fucking cold.

Piper laughs a little. The taxi driver glances at her through the rear-view mirror. He's not irritated anymore; just concerned. Or, curious. This woman has a story to tell, but she's not ready to tell it just yet. She doesn't have an ending.

No story is complete without a finale. An absolute.

That is who Alex is. Her finale. Her certain. Her absolute. Her end.

_Alex_. She is hot and she is freezing. She's exciting and she's calm. She won't have set the table to surprise Piper after a day of work. But she'll be there, at least, suggesting they order a chinese takeaway instead. And when Piper rolls over in bed, she'll probably be there too. Warm and wonderful to hold, fitting perfectly into Piper's arms, and maybe there will be mornings where she will have disappeared without leaving a note.

But she'll be back.

Alex can anger Piper without trying; she knows which buttons to press to send Piper raging. Yet Alex knows how to ease her as well. She knows how to handle a vicious Piper, she knows kissing her just below her ear is her sweet spot. That holding her hand, holding her for hours, is what Piper loves the most.

They're apart, but Piper can still smell her. It's as if Alex's scent is everywhere. It's been months, but she can still picture her face. Her very pale complexion, dark, long hair, pointed nose, the cute crinkles around her eyes from excessive amounts of work. From lack of sleep. From lack of love. Her smug smirk whenever she teases, her adorable, insecure twitchy smile she pulls when she feels awkward.

Piper craves her touch.

Her shivering body can't take their distance for much longer.

She's decaying, _dying_, without the love of her life.

They arrive at Queens. Piper doesn't know the time. The taxi driver doesn't want more money, doesn't know what Piper wants to do here, but wishes her a good luck. Piper thanks him. Leaves the taxi. It's not slushy in Queens. It's blue sky, but it's still cold. She inhales sharply between her teeth, stops in the middle of the pavement.

She remembers Alex's address. Knows the entrance to her flat has a blue door.

Then, Piper runs, runs, runs.

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**author's note**: Due to some confusion in a couple of reviews, I want to make it clear that the guy in the first chapter is NOT Larry.

Okay, wow, I have been gifted a bigger audience than I expected! Thank you so much for reviewing the prior chapter. It means the world to me. The next update will be soon.


	3. III

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'Till Death  
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Waking up is pointless.

It's the sun which disturbs her peace. She gets out of bed at eleven o'clock. Doesn't want to. Opens the blinds, and squints at the harsh light. It's cold. Very cold. Her bare skin tingles, and she shudders. Throws on her dressing gown. Shoves aside an empty bottle of whiskey, books she's read again, again and again. Slips on her glasses. Ah, that's a lot better.

Today she doesn't have work. The pub can manage without her.

She showers. Eats some porridge; throws the rest away. Brushes past her bed, her hand accidentally knocking over the photograph of her mother on the nightstand. She curses. Adjusts the photograph, watches her mother's crooked smile, ignoring the tiny child on her lap.

A thought passes.

Piper is getting married. Isn't she?

The news took a few days to reach her. Nicky was the messenger, and she said she was sorry. And she was. Really sorry. Alex pretended –– _pretends_ –– not to care.

Her t-shirts are baggier. Jeans bigger.

As if Piper's absence has sliced a huge chunk from her. As if Piper _is a part of her_. Removed. Simply torn off. _Taken_.

Alex drinks some scotch. Cringes. Wipes her lips. Grabs a book.

Taunts. She sits on the settee, abandons her drink. And she misses Piper. It's agony. Horrible. She misses her, and wishes she had acted before. She wishes she wasn't too late. She wishes she took her hand when she could, _begged_ her to stay. She wishes her pride, her apparent shyness, her doubt hadn't stopped her. She wishes she had made it so abundantly clear that she, Alex, belongs to her.

Being detached, separate –– oh, how _wrong_ it is.

Her throat aches. She snarls, trying. Trying to ignore the _constant_ weight of what was never hers to lose.

She needs to cry. Again. She needs to cry until she can no longer cry.

Piper is getting married. To a man. To a good man. He'll give her what she wants. And she'll be happy. And she'll smile more. Alex should be proud, should be pleased for her. Right?

But she's jealous. Angry. She feels betrayed when there has been no betrayal. She blames him when it has _nothing_ to do with him. She hates him, because he has her. He has her cuddles, her kisses, her toothy grin, her contagious laughter, her grumps in the morning. He has that; Alex doesn't.

She hates him because he's better.

Alex is too old for games. Now honesty is her only ally.

Now life terrifies her, and she's stuck.

There are knocks at the door. Rapid. Fast.

A beat.

Then more knocks, and Alex is mildly paranoid. Her visitor is eager. The knocking doesn't stop. Alex places her book aside, stands.

Opens the door.

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**author's note**: Final chapter tomorrow afternoon (GMT time).


	4. IV

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'Till Death  
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They glow; her eyes. Tears suddenly trickle down her cheeks. She has to force, _force_, herself not to leap into Alex's arms then and there. It's all irrational, what she feels. Piper wipes a hand down the left side of her face, gasps shakily.

'You're alive.'

Alex frowns. Piper's comment is bizarre. Stupid.

'Yeah.'

(Yeah... yeah, somehow Alex is still alive without her.)

'I don't want him.'

Alex blinks. Frowns again. It takes a while for everything to process. She has had no time to endure shock. To realise that Piper is, indeed, stood in her doorway. She knows what Piper is implying, but doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to believe the possibility that Piper has come back to her.

Again.

In this life, in the next life, in Hell, in Heaven, she'll always come back to her.

Piper holds her breath. Waits for Alex to turn her away.

Waits for her nightmare.

But they are ageing. They are tired. Wounded. And need each other's love.

'I know.' Alex's voice is so quiet, shaken, Piper doesn't hear her at first.

They kiss.

Wild, hot, passionate and destructive.

The door slams shut behind her; Piper's back meets the hard wood, and she groans when Alex nips at her lower lip. They want. They demand. They are a wreckage, grown so insane with their love, they lose all sense of modesty. Piper's shirt is torn from her body, and her chest rises. She closes her eyes while Alex kisses her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, her tummy, and it's enough to drive any woman mad.

All a rehearsed dance. Broken with every step.

She tastes the same. Her lips so soft. Fingertips crushing into her flesh. They leave marks. They make it obvious to themselves and to the world she is hers.

The carpet is rough. Piper's hands run past Alex's hips, press against her stomach. They moan, whisper, want quietly. Her heart is about to burst and they haven't even begun yet. Piper is certain she can't take it; she braces herself.

An exclaim. Her fists tighten in Alex's hair. They touch. They meet. They collide together.

After some time, they pause. Briefly. Breaths heavy. Trembling and drunk with too many emotions battling at once.

Piper kisses the corner of her mouth. 'I love you.'

Then, finally, when she expects green, she sees green. Alex's cheeks are flushed; there is colour to her face. As if her entire body has come to life.

This moment is so, so fragile they don't dare move, afraid it will all shatter apart. And they can't survive another fall. Alex's breath tickles her lips, and Piper tries to smile, but she no longer has the ability to.

Even the most simplest actions are beyond her.

Alex brushes a strand of hair from Piper's face. Moves in closer. Piper assumes a kiss.

'I love you too.'

It's a vow. A promise. Written so deeply into their souls, nothing can tear them apart.

Piper finally manages a smile. One smile. Pulls Alex into her arms and they hold each other for hours on end, hold each other until they are certain, until they know. Until they are.

It takes time, but they happen.

Eventually.

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end.

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**author's note**: Just a short, tender story. Don't ask why. I just wrote it. Thank you very much for reading. All of your reviews have been amazing, and I'm incredibly flattered to have such an enthusiastic audience. If you want to contact me, then you'd best do so on my tumblr (url: writinginpaint). Over there, I may post the odd drabble and keep you all updated on my fics. Please tell me your thoughts; your feedback is very important. See you all next time!


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